No More Waiting
by corneroffandom
Summary: Walt realizes that, despite his original plans, it's time for him to step up and handle some business.


A/N: I just finished watching Breaking Bad for the first time last month. So of course I'm here writing fic for a show that's been done for years. Haha, well, I hope it's not too awful.

It can't possibly take _this_ long to strike a deal. I mean, even when you're as unmotivated and ridiculous as one Jesse Pinkman, four hours? Without a call, or anything? Walter White stares at his phone with a glower on his face, so impatient that he's almost thrumming. He doesn't _have_ hours to sit here and waste on pointless things like this, between his family, his chemo treatments, and everything else going on in his life the last thing he needs is Jesse to have gotten distracted chasing his latest high, or some cheap woman, or...

He scrubs at his face, grits his teeth, before grabbing his phone once more. He's called before, always getting voicemail, but this time he decides if Jesse doesn't answer, it's done, he'll find another way to make the money his family so desperately needs. The more the device rings, the more his blood boils, until finally the damn thing clicks. "Jesse, where the hell are you, it's been close to five hours and if you tell me you spent all of that time getting high, or-"

"Yo, who is this?"

Walt stops short at this, gaping at thin air. The voice isn't Jesse's, it's thinner, weaker, more scared than his partner's ever had been. "Uh. Who is _this?_ "

"I'm a friend of Jesse's, Skinny Pete." There's a long pause while Walt tries to figure out why this random person would be answering Jesse's phone, a feeling of dread easing down his spine. "Uh. Who are you?"

"Where is Jesse?" he demands, putting enough strained authority into his voice that very few people could outright ignore him, that old teacher impatience becoming more and more a benefit in situations like these.

"Uh, the hospital. He got really messed up, man, I- there wasn't anything I could do, just-"

Walter stares ahead in quiet shock as he digests this. _Hospital. Messed up. What does that even_ mean? "What hospital?" he barks, already half way to the car before he fully thinks it all through. "What room?"

After a rushed drive and a quick conversation with the nurses at the front desk, Walt finds the room. Inside, things are shadowed, quiet, except for the machines monitoring Jesse's vitals, and Walt swallows as he gets a good look at him. Jesse's pale and motionless, he's seemingly held together by a neck brace that dwarfs him, because he's so damn thin as it is anyway and... _oh._ Someone shifts in the corner next to Jesse's bed, staring at Walt suspiciously as they stand up.

Skinny Pete, it must be, and his name fits all too well because he's somehow smaller than Jesse, explaining about Tuco and what he'd done to Jesse, beating him to this degree with a bag full of stacks of cash.

Walt listens while staring at Jesse, thrown once more at just how young the guy looks. In the time that had passed since they began producing meth together, he'd forgotten, really, the dumb kid in his class all of those years ago... most often asleep than actually paying attention, but the few times Walt had had Jesse's focus, he had seen promise in the kid. Unfulfilled, obviously, but promise nonetheless. Walt has no time to dwell on it though, no time to make things better, or right. He's dying and his family will be left destitute under a pile of his medical bills, and...

 _Silent partner. Not in this business._ He almost wants to laugh at himself for even thinking such a thing would be possible, when so many things could go wrong. Had gone wrong. After listening to what the doctors have to say about Jesse's condition- bruised and probably broken ribs, thankfully the neck brace had just been there as a precaution- he decides to handle Tuco himself, his jaw setting angrily as he looks down at Jesse once more, taking it all in to fuel his next actions. Asleep just like in class, but this time after _trying_ to do what Walt had required of him. He exhales roughly, rests a hand on Jesse's for a brief moment, before turning to leave. Casts one last glance at Skinny Pete at the door. "Whatever he needs, make sure he gets it. I'll handle the rest."

Anything Skinny Pete has to say goes unheard as the door clicks shut loudly behind Walt.


End file.
